Self Destruction
by bluecarousel
Summary: It killed him every time he watched her walk away with another guy. He knew he could never have her all to himself. But he also knew that he'd rather have part of her than none of her. Rory and Tristan. Call it a role reversal with vengeance.
1. Chapter One

**- Chapter One -**

Every guy has fantasies involving girls in schoolgirl uniforms. Yet ironically enough, as much as he indulged in these fantasies, the concept of wearing one himself repulsed him. The pressed pants, the buttoned down shirt, the blazer, and worst yet…the tie. Of course his father had explained how uniforms were meant to promote equality and uniformity.

"_Hence the name…get it, uniform? Uniformity?"_ his father had said and laughed at his own pathetic attempt at a joke.

Now, as he gazed at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel nauseous. _Man…if my friends ever caught me in this_, he thought and let a snicker escape his lips.

"Excuse me sir…but have you seen my son anywhere," his father joked as he walked in, sporting the usual flannel shirt and backwards baseball cap.

Son…that word always managed to lift Tristan right out of whatever funk he was in. Biologically, Luke wasn't his father but for the past 17 years, he had been the one who had come to every parent-teacher interview, cheered him on at every game and picked him up after every fall.

He knew his life would have been different had his birth parents kept him. But he never indulged this idea because he loved his life and the people in his life. As far as he was concerned, all the Dugrey money couldn't have bought him the contentment the town of Stars Hollow offered him.

To this very day, he held on to the belief that being put up for adoption was the best thing that could have ever happened to him.

Sure, his lifestyle wasn't lavish, he thought, as he gazed over his modest bedroom, consisting of his unmade bed, shelves crammed with books, various Harvard memorabilia, CD's, his desk, where many an hour had been spent devouring a book or writing down his ideas, and the poster covered walls. But it was more than enough. Stars Hollow was more than enough.

"Don't tell me you're gonna cry or something…cus seeing you emotional _may_ force me to skip breakfast," Tristan teased and mimicked a vomiting action.

"Keep it up smart guy and breakfast won't be the only meal you're forced to give up," Luke threw back before putting an arm around his son's shoulder and dragging him downstairs towards the diner.

"Well hellooooooo stud," came a familiar voice as the two men walked down and into the diner.

Miss Patty sat at her usual table, sporting an array of beaded necklaces and a salacious grin.

"Hello beautiful," Tristan responded before sending her a wink and sitting down at the counter.

"Eat." Luke ordered as he placed a plate of bacon, waffles, French toast and celery in front of Tristan.

"Celery…you're kidding right?" Tristan asked, smirking. He was used to his father's constant attempts at trying to get him to eat healthy but never the less, never missed and opportunity to give him a hard time about it.

"What?" Luke grumbled. "Martha always says that a little celery…" but Tristan cut him off.

"Wait wait wait…Martha? As in Stewart?" he began and then broke into a fit of laughter.

"Shut up!" Luke yelled before he disappeared behind the counter.

"Real manly of you dad" Tristan called out after his father's retreating back.

Ten minutes later, after he had devoured everything including the celery, he said goodbye to his father and ran out of the diner.

"Keep your eyes peeled for a nice gentleman friend for me," Patty yelled as he ran past her.

---

"Bye Robert," Rory yelled back before stamping out her cigarette, throwing her bag into the back seat of her convertible then jumping in her self.

"Have a good day miss Lorelai," the butler called back as he watched her drive off. Then sighing deeply, he closed the doors and returned to his duties.

Robert had been with the Gilmores for over 40 years and with Rory all her life. He had cared for her like a father and had had a bigger hand in raising her than her own family. But now days, despite how much she tried to hide it, Robert could see that she was hurting. And it hurt him to know that there was nothing he could do to help her get out of the hole she was digging for her self.

Worst yet, it didn't seem to appear that her own flesh and blood, her grandparents, had any inclination of the situation she was getting her self into.

As she turned the corner, Rory sped up, aware that Robert could no longer see her. With the wheel in her hands and no grandparents telling her what to do, the tension that had lately been building, slowly seemed to ease up. Driving had that effect on her.

To say she loved it would have been an understatement. It was the only thing in her life that seemed to be under her control. On the road, in her car, she didn't feel as if she were some show dog, being paraded around by its master. She felt free and fully in control of her life. Maybe that's why she skipped a light here and there or sped down streets. It was the only thing in her life that was under her control. Flying through another red light, she took a sip of her coffee and played with the radio dials.

---

A few chapters of Walt Whitman and a bus ride later, Tristan found himself within mere feet of the hallowed halls of Chilton. Well…that's what the headmaster had called it anyways. The headmaster had also told him how unusual it was for someone to come to Chilton in his or her final year of high school. Never the less, the headmaster had felt that with Tristan's excellent grade point average, he would be caught up in no time.

He threw his book into his bag and pulled out the schedule the head office had mailed him. He tried to decipher the map of the school using the legend they had provided him with but found it almost impossible.

With his full attention on trying to figure out where his first class was, the looks cast his way by passing girls went unnoticed. After all, in terms of external attributes, he was almost every girl's epitome of a prince charming, right from the messy blond, untamable hair and chiseled features to that unintentional strut. No matter where he was or what he did, Tristan always managed to look as if he had just stepped out of the latest issue of GQ.

But what generally grabbed and held people's attention could be credited to his intense, penetrating blue eyes. His eyes always gave his emotions away, proving once and for all that they really were the windows to one's soul.

Babette always said that they seemed to change with his mood and at the moment, he was sporting eyes of bewildered blue.

He was so engrossed in the map that as he crossed the street, any thoughts of on coming traffic failed to enter his mind. It was only when he heard the screeching of brakes that he looked up from his map. Around him, a few people stared but the rest carried on as if this were a normal phenomenon.

"Smart move jerk…you have a death wish or something," Rory began but stopped as their eyes met. As quickly as her angry demeanor had come, it melted away.

"Damn. Sorry about that. Wasn't watching where I was going," he called back to her.

"No really," she replied coldly, at which he chuckled.

"Luck must be on my side or something," he called out as he noticed just how close the car had come to completely pummeling him.

As he moved off to the side, she pulled down her shades and looked him up and down. For an instant something fluttered inside her but as she caught the guy looking her up and down, the feisty attitude returned.

"Yeah, well, if you feel the need for another adrenaline rush, step in front of someone else's car because the next time with me, you might not be so lucky," she spat before throwing him a glare and driving off towards the Chilton parking lot.

He watched her drive off and then stepping back into reality, made his way onto the Chilton grounds. His mind was still on her as he began to walk up to the main entrance. He knew his first class was English, so once again, he pulled out the map and tried to decipher it.

"Hey gorgeous," came a sultry voice from behind him. Snapping back to reality, Tristan turned to see a pretty redhead walking towards him. The schoolgirl scenario flashed through his mind.

Isabelle had noticed the tall blond as he walked past her and was instantly aroused by the fact that he had ignored her. It was strange how her mind worked.

Leaving behind a circle of disappointed admirers, she pursued after the newcomer. Pursued was definitely a word that went hand in hand with Isabelle. She, being one of the most popular girls at Chilton, had her share of pursuers. But it was her ability to pursue and always get who and what she wanted that she was best known for.

"A little lost are you?" she tilted her head in mock innocence and asked.

He smiled and locked eyes with her. "Actually yeah"…he began. "I'm trying to find Dante's class."

She locked arms with him and smiled. "Well it's your lucky day gorgeous, because I was just on my way to that same exact class." This of course was an indefinite lie. Well, true, it was her first period class but by no means had she had any desire to attend that class before Tristan had crossed her path. She had intended on skipping, as usual. That, her callous disregard for anything educational and unrelated to the latest fashion trends, was another thing Isabelle was famous for.

Sporting his infamous grin, Tristan allowed the redhead to lead him up a flight of stairs and in to a classroom, one that Isabelle had assumed to be vacant.

But to her dismay and disappointment, the four Chilton girls she despised the most currently occupied it. Isabelle had forgotten that Rory and her friends were always freakishly early for classes.

Rory momentarily looked up from her book as Isabelle practically barged in with a guy. She didn't get a good look at him but assuming it was another one of Isabelle's playmates, Rory returned to her book.

Paris also noticed the new guy but displayed the same enthusiasm as Rory. Louise and Madeline however looked him up and down as if her were a low fat chocolate bar ready for the tasting.

Recalling the earlier incident, Tristan's gaze fixed upon Rory. Despite her total lack of interest, he couldn't help but stare at her as she sat atop a desk, legs crossed in a seductive manor, engrossed in a novel. Everything about the petite brunette, especially the somewhat altered uniform, intrigued him.

Noticing this, Isabelle pulled him towards the back of the class where she and her friends sat, but not before throwing a vicious, catty glance at Louise and Madeline. She fully intended on 'introducing her self' to the new guy before any one else did.

"So," Isabelle began, as she sat down and motioned Tristan to do the same. "What's your story?"

"Well I…" he began but was cut off as a tall, dark haired male entered the room with a mug in each hand.

"And how are Chilton's four most gorgeous women doing?" he asked, nodding in the direction of Rory, Paris, Louise and Madeline before walking in and settling himself atop Paris's desk.

"I'll be sure to ask when I see them," Paris retorted before getting up and moving away from him.

A moment later, another guy entered the room, caught site of Isabelle and Tristan and turned in their direction.

He sized Tristan up before embracing Isabelle with an almost possessive kiss. _Yeah I get the point dude. She's your girlfriend,_ Tristan thought as he returned his gaze to the brunette.

Almost as if feeling his gaze upon her, Rory's eyes moved from her book and locked with Tristan's eyes. Trying to be polite, he smiled at her but she just returned her gaze back to the book, almost as if she had looked at him without really seeing anyone there.

_Who is he and why the hell is he staring at me_?" Rory wondered as she tried to concentrate on the witty remark that Rhett had thrown out. But he couldn't help but stare as he took in everything about her, from her Sapphire eyes, and her long, slender legs to the dozens of bracelets on her wrists and the title of the book she was reading: Gone With The Wind.

Momentarily, he dropped the gaze as giggles erupted beside him where Isabelle and the guy sat in a very contorted position. All notions of the new guy forgotten, Isabelle whispered something into the guy's ear. Seconds later, with Isabelle still giggling, the two disentangled themselves and rose from their chairs.

"At least learn from your parents' mistake and use some birth control," called out Paris as the two practically catapulted out of the classroom.

**---**

**Reference: Rhett Butler is the male lead in Gone With The Wind**

**Reviews and comments are more than welcome. Hope you guys liked this chapter. The next chapter is already done, so it will be up in a couple of days.**

**Cheers.**


	2. Chapter Two

**- Chapter Two -**

**Thursday night;**

"Please baby," she whispered seductively before nuzzling into the crook of his neck and trailing kisses down his chest. She felt him react beneath her as she sat atop his lap, straddling him with one leg dangling on either side. A smirk instantly spread across her lips; now busy working their way down his chest.

"Rore...," he stuttered, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her even closer. "I can't, I'm sorry…I tried already but the new bouncer at the club's really tight about IDs and…"

"Try again," she interrupted, this time with less affection, and stifled any retaliation on his part by pushing him further down on the bed and crashing her lips against his. Seconds later, she pulled away and waited for a response and grinned as he nodded his head.

---

**Friday morning:**

Despite herself, Rory had been watching the guy. Ever since Monday, when he'd smiled at her so genuinely, and so unlike most of the other guys at school, her interest had been peeked. It had been a while since Chilton had had a guy who'd managed to catch and keep her attention for a more than a couple of days and the fact that the new guy had managed to do so, puzzled and intrigued her.

It was definitely something worth exploring, to say the least.

A slight pressure on her shoulder brought her back to reality and she looked up to meet Finn's eyes as they smiled down at her. Hand slung across her shoulders, he sat down at their usual table, with its usual occupants.

Generally there were four girls and three guys; Paris Geller, Louise Grant, Madeline Lynn, Finn Morgan, Collin Fitzpatrick, Logan Huntzburger and of course Rory Gilmore. Chilton royalty.

Within the span of three years they had become almost legends at Chilton, taking on an almost celebrity like status.

Paris Geller, known for both her drive and intelligence, was literally, to everyone except the handful she considered friends, the most intimidating person alive. Her words stung like a whip and at times even reduced professors to blithering puddles.

She'd never been in love, and planned on never being in love. Currently, she only had one goal in life; getting into Harvard.

Louise was one of the most interesting people Rory knew. Sometimes it seemed to her that there were two Louise Grants. One wore her heart on her sleeve and would do anything for her friends. The other seemed to lack a heart and exuded a kind of coldness that chilled you to the bones. This was the Louise that came out when it came to guys and sex.

She had a similar kind of drive to Paris but instead of going after grades, she went after men. Unless she was interested in you, a guy did not stand a chance. But if she was interested in you, there was no stopping her. Tall, blond and a bombshell, with the sultriest voice imaginable, Louise always got what she wanted.

Maddie, as her friends affectionately called her, worked in the same way as Louise. But unlike Louise, everyone could see how big her heart was. At times a bit flaky, Maddie was just as well known for her quirkiness as for her beauty. With her raven hair and sweet features, she also had a line up of admirers.

Then there were the guys.

Finn, able to drink anyone under the table, was quite possibly the funniest person alive. And his antics only multiplied in hilarity with Logan and Collin as his accomplices. Embodying the words, tall, dark and handsome, Finn had looks and charm, along with an Australian accent that helped him go home with a different girl almost every night of the week.

Collin, the most reserved of all six, was also the only one who'd ever really been in love…and was still in love. Good looking, rich and very intelligent, Collin was also the only one with a plan for the future he actually liked; after graduating from law school, he planned on marrying his girlfriend, and then moving as far away from his family as possible. At one point, he had even considered living in the Arctic.

Logan, possibly the richest one of them all was also the one with the biggest family responsibilities to uphold. As the sole male heir he was expected to put aside his own dreams and one day take over the family business.

So, under the motto Carpe Diem, ironically the name of the last boat he had sunk, he used his looks, charm and name to wow the ladies…and sleep with as many of them as possible. Practice, he called it, for married life.

Then there was Rory, the apple of her grandparent's eyes, as they often told their friends. Raised mainly by their butler, while Emily and Richard were busy at some social engagement or another, she had only acquired their attention after having been told by a teacher of her high aptitude and IQ.

She grew up groomed to both please a husband and take over the world, under the combined yet drastically different approaches of Emily and Richard.

But however much they tried to force her to emulate them, they could not force out the characteristics belonging to her mother now slowly becoming apparent in Rory.

Rory had never known her mother. She recalled once asking her grandmother about it. She had told Rory that Lorelai, her mother, had walked out of her life a week after she had been born. Then she was told never to ask such questions again.

All she had of her mother was a black leather jacket emblazoned with a blue rose, and a note tucked inside the pocket, saying how perfect her beautiful baby girl was...a rose in a garden of weeds.

She often spoke to Robert about her mother and every chance he got, he told her proudly how much she resembled her mother, in both attitude and appearance.

Rory was naturally beautiful with porcelain perfect skin, delicate features that extenuated her big, inquisitive blue eyes and dark locks that fell about her shoulders like a waterfall. But though they certainly helped, it wasn't just her looks or her beautiful smile that made people gravitate towards her.

It had something to do with her confident gait and the way she carried her self, a gravity defying head-high, shoulders squared walk that oozed sensuality.

It also had to do with the way she looked at you when you were talking, all attention on you as if you were the only person in the room. Everyone excluding her five friends, who knew her better than anyone else, thought she was perfect and as such assumed she lived a perfect life.

All a part of the mask she wore. Silk and sequence masquerading the scars and imperfections hovering just beneath the surface.

No one, to an extent, not even her friends, knew how broken she felt. She sometimes wondered whether she was born a mess and whether it was the reason why her mother had left, why her grandparents never had time for her, why she could never get close to anyone.

Hidden under a practiced smile and a cool confidence, these insecurities never breached the surface.

All seven came from old Hartford families, dripping with money and power. Born with silver spoons in their mouths and raised in the lap of luxury, all led similar lives, paraded before society like show dogs and expected to one day marry a suitable young man, or take over the family business, and eventually produce heirs.

"You okay love?" Finn's voice called to her and brought her back to reality.

"Huh? What?...No, yeah I'm fine…just a little stressed I guess," Rory heard her self respond.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Louise inquired as she finished applying a final coat of red polish onto her nails.

"Jack's taking care of it…since these three jerks won't come with us," Rory responded, jabbing Finn in the ribs and referring to him, Collin, and Logan.

"Sorry love, but Collin has a date with the future Mrs. Fitzpatrick and my mate Logan and I have other plans to attend to as well," Finn put in and winked at her.

"Which is code for, we have dates with two sluts that we can't miss," Paris put in before returning to her book.

"Jealous doll?" Finn grinned at Paris.

"Are you kidding?" Paris scoffed. "If I feel anything it's sympathy for the two airheads who are stuck with you two for dates…"

"You wound be deeply Paris," Logan interrupted, feigning mock hurt. "I thought you knew me better than that. We're going out with four airheads, not two."

The whole table, excluding Paris, erupted with laughter.

It felt good to laugh.

---

**Friday night in Star's Hollow:**

"You know I was quite the disk jockey in my day…they called me…Kirk…"

"And what was that short for," Tristan mocked as he cleared away the last of the dishes.

"Well…Kirk…it was short for Kirk…" Kirk responded, clearly missing the sarcasm. "I could teach you a thing or two if you'd like…of course I'd have to charge you…"

"Go home Kirk," both Tristan and Luke yelled unanimously.

"I can't…mother's having her special friend over for dinner and I'm not allowed to disturb them."

Tristan just shrugged before grabbing his equipment off the counter, saying a quick good bye to a now irritated Luke and heading for Hartford.

---

"Hey Louise, did you see the new guy in class?" Madeline inquired from inside her walk in closet. "Gorgeous or what?"

"To die for," Louise responded as she walked up to the full length mirror and began to readjust the length of her mini skirt. Shorter was always better in Louise's opinion. Her outfit wasn't exactly slutty, but it also didn't scream conservative.

At present, she had on a black camisole, black mini skirt that hugged her curves and a thin scarf that looped her neck and wound its way down to the floor.

Madeline was dressed in a similar fashion; red camisole with a skirt slightly longer than Louise's and a long necklace adorning her neck.

"Why the hell are we even going to this stupid thing?" Paris questioned as she entered the room dressed in a sweater and jeans.

"Because Paris…it's, get ready for this…fun!" Rory responded as she followed Paris into the room.

At the moment, she had on a pair of low rider jeans that hugged every curve and covered much of her stilettos, along with a dark blue camisole that further increased the intensity in her eyes and showed off half an inch of midriff. Over that, she had on her favorite leather jacket and as always, dozens of bracelets and bangles adorned her wrists.

"Is it just me or does the idea of sneaking into a club, being groped by 40 year old perverts going through marital issues, and then inevitably getting thrown out have the word stupidity written all over it?"

"It's just you," the other three all chipped in.

"And besides, it's more like 20 year old perverts," Rory teased.

"So what did you two think of that new guy in class," Madeline inquired as she walked over to Paris and Rory as they sat on the bed waiting for Louise to finish up.

"I checked his GPA from his old school, impressive enough, and his academic history as well as…"

"Damn…I just checked out his ass. You ran a search on his background? Remind me never to get on your bad side," Louise interrupted, putting on the finishing touches on her make up.

"And anyways, that's not what I meant. Who cares how smart he is Paris. What I meant was did you see those eyes…and that body…"

"Careful Maddie or you'll start drooling on the bed," Rory teased before rising from the bed, and skillfully avoiding the question.

All week, she'd had a difficult time not casting a glance his way or returning those smiles he sent her and she didn't know why. The mere thought of letting some guy get to her repulsed her.

"I think his name was…hey Maddie, what's his name? Christian…or Justin or…" Louise began but was cut off as Rory spoke up.

"Tristan," Rory corrected automatically and realized her error too late.

For a moment, all three girls simply stared at her and then three equally mischievous, equally intrigued grins spread to their faces.

"Uh…we better get going," Rory spoke up, side-stepping towards the door. "I promised Jack we'd be there at 9:00."

---

He watched from his platform above the dance floor as the lights came on and began to cast eerie shadows all across the floor. It was always a different experience watching things unravel from above.

Then taking the throngs of people now entering the dance floor as his cue, he switched on the power and brought the turntables to life. And with two tracks in place, he began to spin, much to the pleasure of the crowd below, already moving to the pulsating rhythm of the song.

The strobe lights kicked off and gave way to a moment of total darkness. The crowd cheered and the track stopped for a second.

Then blue lights kicked in from beneath the floor, sending a glowing hue through the club's artificial fog and a new track, even faster than the previous one kicked in.

---

After a long conversation, between Jack and a surly looking bouncer, in which his father's name came up quite often, they all entered the club, annoyed Paris in tow.

And like clockwork, within minutes Louise and Madeline were off with one guy or another, and Paris was winding her way towards a booth to sulk and bide her time in.

"So babe, you wanna dance?" Jack questioned grabbing Rory's hand and leading her towards the dance floor, before she could decline. They reached the center of the floor just as another song, with a faster more intense pace, picked up.

Jack grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer and seeing no other option, for the moment, Rory just moved her body along side his, hoping to get lost in the dance.

---

Holding the left piece of his head phones to his ear, he used his right hand to repeat a few seconds of a track through a system of loop playbacks. He then moved to the tempo mode, securing his ideal track pitch and speeding it up.

A few years ago, he'd started off with just vinyl but after watching a few of his favorite DJs spin off CDs, he'd decided to combine the two and spin off both.

The image of him a few years ago, practically booed off stage as he messed up a session, made him laugh. He really had come a long way. Now his skills were actually in demand. He let the song die down before quickly moving to another track.

---

"Jack…" Rory called over the music. "I'm going to go find Paris okay?"

"Why?" he called back, pulling her back to him. "Don't you want to dance?"

"Not really," she put in before removing his hand from across her waist and disappearing into the crowd. He'd gotten them in, so his part was done. She felt no guilt.

---

No one ever really stood out from the crowd from where he stood. Lost in the spinning and music, they all just became a mass of bodies, moving to the beat as one. But tonight was different.

As he reached to switch records, his eyes fell on not a person but something that was on that person, some kind of blue object almost glowed against the backdrop of eerie lights and darkness.

For a moment, he followed it with his eyes but once again coming to his senses, he returned to his job

---

Rory found Paris, as usual, engrossed in a book.

"Come on Paris, dance with me."

"Go dance with your self Gilmore," Paris yelled back over the music.

Rory laughed before dragging her best friend onto the dance floor.

---

There it was again, that blue symbol. _Like a rose in a garden of weeds_, he thought, something his father's girlfriend always said. Even as he returned to the spinning, he couldn't take his eyes off it.

"Hey Tristan…you're off for the night," Kline, the manager, called from below.

Tristan nodded in response before, putting on his final track and letting the other DJ take over.

He wound his way down the catwalk and made for the bar.

"Coke please," a voice from behind called as he reached the bar. The bartender nodded before turning in Tristan's direction. "Uh…the same," he ordered before grabbing a seat on a barstool. Moments later, the bartender placed a glass of coke on the counter.

Tristan reached for it and as his fingers clasped around the drink, he felt a pair of fingers clasp around his.

He turned to meet the owner and smiled upon recognizing the fiery brunette from Chilton.

Rory recognized him instantly and quickly removed her hand from over his.

"Here you can take it, I don't mind waiting for the next one," he offered smiling.

"Thanks, but I think I'll just wait for the next one," she responded before breaking eye contact. Seconds later, the bartender placed another coke on the counter. Rory reached up for it and throwing another glance at Tristan turned to leave.

As she turned, he caught sight of the object he had seen earlier from above, a blue rose.

"So you really are a rose in a garden of weeds," she heard him call from behind. For a second, she stood frozen to the spot, and then letting curiosity get the best of her, she turned back towards him.

"Excuse me?" she inquired, a small smile curving at her lips.

"Uh, your jacket…it caught my attention when I was upstairs…"

"Wait, you're the DJ?" her interest peeked she interrupted.

"No, I hang around upstairs, dropping chandeliers on people," he smiled, and watched with pleasure as a smile crept to her face.

"Actually I just started here a couple of weeks ago," he replied before taking a second look at her. In the blue light, she oddly seemed even more beautiful. "You're in my first period class right? Dante's?"

"Yeah," Rory replied, her interest in the guy growing stronger by the minute. Usually she just enjoyed the thrill of the chase. But now, she was genuinely interested in the guy…something that sent a slight shiver up her spine.

For a moment, the two simply sat in silence.

"Listen, seeing as you're obviously dying to dance with me…shall we," she spoke up.

"Well, I'm kind of tired…you know with all the wrist movements and nodding of my head…" he teased and was surprised to see something of disappointment cloud her eyes. "But I can tell you're desperate…so…" he finished with a grin and extended a hand for her to take.

"But I gotta warn you, I can't dance…" he continued the teasing.

"Good," she leaned in and whispered, a soft smile once again lighting up from behind her eyes "I can teach you."

She laced her fingers with his, propped her glass on the counter and led him onto the dance floor. She didn't know why, she didn't know how. All she knew was that at the moment, it somehow felt right.

"I'm Rory by the way," she called over the music.

"Mary?" he called back, unable to decipher the name she had given over the music.

Hearing only the last of what he'd just yelled out, she nodded.

"I'm Tristan," he called back.

They reached the floor just as another song picked up and the lights changed from blue to a deep red. Almost instantly her arms went up around his neck and found a rest on his shoulders. He in turn drew her closer and circled her waist with his hands.

Softly, in tune with the rising beat, she ground her hip into his and almost absent mindedly, her fingers began to trace patterns across the exposed skin at the base of his neck.

He felt a soft shiver run through his spine at the feelings her touch evoked. Grinning and trying to keep in control, he lowered his hands to her hips and tightened the hold over them.

She was taken back by how gentle he was. Jack would have been all over her by now, his hands resting well below her hips.

She moved in further and moved her hands over to his chest and began to slowly sway her hips in tune with the music. He felt her move and responded immediately, tightening his hold over her hips and allowing her to lead. Slowly, she swayed her body in unison with his.

A moment later, she turned so she had her back to him and covered his hands with her own, moving her slender fingers up and down his arms, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She closed her eyes, leaned back against him and once again, the two began grinding to the methodical rhythm.

A moment later, a soft smile in place, she leaned further back and whispered, "I thought you couldn't dance?"

"Credit goes to my teacher," he replied, grin in place.

He moved his hands up her arms, leaving a soft ringing of bangles in their wake, down her sides and back over to her hips where his thumbs began to trace patterns onto the exposed skin just above her jeans, sending a shudder through her veins.

They stayed like that for what seemed like only mere minutes, swaying in unison to the mesmeric, irresistible rhythm, everyone else around them fading into the background, not recognizing the hours as they slipped by.

---

**Hey everyone. Just a little clarification. I used to write under the account forever cynical and I had about two chapters of this story (under the title, Roles are Reversed) in that account. But because of a problem with my email, I had to change my account. **

**I also had a story called Bound To Purgatory in my old account, but as a result of my summery (there was a curse word in it), that story was deleted by the site. I didn't have most of that story backed up on my computer so I was really crushed. **

**Anywho, for those who asked, yes this is a repost and I am glad you guys still found it interesting. Thank you for all the reviews. They serve as a major boost for my ego.**

**Cheers.**


	3. Chapter Three

**- Chapter Three -**

"Want one?" she asked him as she moved a cigarette to her lips with her right hand and offered him the pack with her left.

Tristan declined.

Shrugging, she inhaled deeply and blew a puff of smoke upwards, head tilted towards the sky.

It was about two thirty in the morning, and they were in the club parking lot, leaning against Jack's car. Rory had wanted a smoke and she had asked him to come outside with her. Despite the lampposts that dotted the length of the parking lot, it was pretty dark. No moon in sight.

"That's bad for your health, you realize?" Tristan piped in, trying to break the silence that had fallen over them.

"Why? Do you care?" came her unexpected answer. She moved over to the hood of the car, sitting on top it and leaning back against the windshield.

He mimicked her actions, stretching back against the windshield and focusing on the black clouds floating overhead. A puff of smoke rose up beside him and disappeared into the heavens.

"Does that surprise you," he retorted and felt her shift her position beside him.

"Yes."

A silence, this time less awkward, fell between them.

A few minutes later, Tristan decided to venture forth and test the ice once again.

"So Mary, do you live in Hartford?"

She didn't correct his mistake.

"Yeah, I've spent almost my entire life here," she finally managed to spit out. "You?" A cloud of smoke followed her words.

"No. I live in Stars Hollow. It's just a few miles outside of Hartford"

"That name seems so familiar but I can't place it…" she broke off as a drop of water landed on her lips. Rain clouds were rolling overhead.

A second drop followed, landing on her eyes lashes.

She arched off the windshield and slid to the ground before drawing in a last puff and throwing away her cigarette. It fluttered to the floor and the lit end smoldered for a second before its glow was stolen by the wind.

"Come on," she called, clasping his hand and dragging him towards an unknown destination. Raindrops followed in their wake.

---

The pounding of their feet against the rusty metal along with the roar of the sudden wind left no room for voices to be heard. So as she dragged him up a fire escape that ran the length of the building, he kept any questions he had to himself.

Like a steel vine, the staircase wound its way up the face of the building, nine flights later, ending at the roof. Clambering up the last of the steps, they finally emerged on the roof. Except for the occasional pigeon, it was deserted.

"Come on," she called after him, running towards the opposite end of the roof which was covered by a Plexiglas ceiling. Raindrops beating at his back, he followed.

Today, the area was void of chairs so Rory decided to sit on the floor instead.

Leaning back against a wall, she slid to the floor, crossing her legs out in front of her and letting her hands fall to her sides. Smoothing back the strands of hair plastered across his forehead he sauntered over to her and also took a seat.

For a few moments, listening to the raindrops as they bounced against the ceiling, and allowing the wind to toy with their hair and clothing, the two simply sat in silence.

She was the first to break it.

"This is going to sound stupid but I feel like I've seen you or met you before." That was the reason why she had danced with him for so long. There was something about him that drew her to him.

"Well…there was this porno I once starred in…" he began, but stopped upon seeing the seriousness in her eyes. "I don't think so. I'd remember you." He smiled as a grin lit up her features.

"That's true, I'm quite memorable."

"Or maybe I just have a mind like a steel trap," he countered, earning another grin from her.

The wind had picked up.

After another pause, she spoke up again.

"I come up here a lot."

"Hmm," came his reply.

"It's sort of like my cloud nine." She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them.

"Stars Hollow is kind of like one big cloud nine," he added, unaware of the grin on his face.

"I still can't place that name."

The raindrops were dying off but the wind remained defiant, rustling by in waves.

He turned to her and watched as her brow narrowed in concentration.

"Maybe I'll take you sometime," he said off handedly. This earned a smile from her.

"Was that a proposition?" As she turned to him, her right eyebrow arched, he noticed the soft glint in her eyes.

"I…" he began but was cut off as a movement ahead caught his attention. Figures were emerging from the stairwell.

Rory noticed too and irritation shot through her veins as she recognized the figures…Jack and a few of his buddies. Tristan rose from his position, but Rory remained seated. She wasn't in the mood to argue with Jack.

Having spotted the two, Jack made a beeline for them.

"Enjoying your self?" his voice broke through the roar of the wind as he finally came inside the shelter. The slight slur in his words gave away the fact that he was drunk.

"Enormously," Rory responded, locking eyes with him.

"Glad to hear it Rore." His two friends stood around him like bodyguards. "Glad to hear it."

Tristan was about to speak when the guy broke through.

"And who is your friend here," Jack inquired, shifting his gaze from Rory to Tristan. He moved, or rather staggered, towards Tristan, who stood his ground.

"How is that any of your concern," came Rory's response.

The rain was falling faster now.

For a second, Jack looked taken back but then he quickly countered. "You know who my father and I ran into last week at the golf course? Richard. He looked quite well." There was a malicious glint in his eyes. "He speaks so highly of you Rore…kept telling us about how Emily was already planning the..."

"Are we going to play that card again?" she interrupted him, eyes no longer smiling. She had risen to her feet and now stood directly in front of Jack, eyes blazing. For a second the two simply stared at one another before Rory finally turned back to Tristan.

"Thanks for keeping me company Tristan. I had fun." Tristan noticed that the smile curling at her lips did not reach her eyes. But before he could respond, she was already out of the shelter, heading towards the fire escape.

Jack sent him a grin before walking after Rory. The two guys who had accompanied him did the same.

He watched them disappear from view before propping back his leg and leaning against the wall. What just happened?

As usual, his weekend consisted of working in the diner, then catching a shift at the record store, and then, spinning for a few hours at another one of Hartford's clubs. Wishful thinking in tact, he had hoped some how she might be there, and they'd get a chance to…a chance to…he didn't know what.

All he knew was that he wanted to see her. Within the span of a few hours spent talking, laughing and dancing, now burned into his memory, she'd made that happen. She's made him want her.

Shrugging off his own stupidity, he changed tracks and got back to the spinning. It had been one day. Not even a day. A few hours. How could he possibly like someone within the span of a few hours? And besides, hadn't she left the club with some other guy?

---

Not too far away, in a similar club, Rory downed her third drink while Jack pulled her closer to him on the booth, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and trailing kisses down her shoulders. Not even aware of it, her mind drifted to Tristan and the feelings that had emerged from every corner of her body at his touch.

Jack no longer had that effect on her. No one ever really had that effect on her.

That dangerous effect that made you long for something better, she thought bitterly.

Trying to push aside the feelings that had surfaced in her, she reached for Jack's glass, also half empty and downed it with a single gulp. What was the point in getting her hopes up anyways? Her future was already set.

---

**Monday Morning**

Headphones blasting Metallica's Sanitarium, he weaved his way through the throngs of students crowding the halls, heading for his first period class. As usual, lost in the song, the smiles and smirks cast his way by swooning females went unnoticed. He entered the classroom and almost instantly, his eyes fell on her. As if sensing him there, she looked up from yet another book she was engrossed in. Catching her eye, he sent her a beaming smile. The gesture was not returned.

He dropped his gaze and moved towards his seat, confusion tugging at his strings. When the bell rang an hour later, indicating the end of class, he hung back, wanting to talk to her. But she wasn't alone. Three other girls were with her and at the moment, her undivided attention seemed to be on a conversation she was having with one of the girls.

Not wanting to be late for his next class, he rose from his chair and walked out the door, deciding to catch up with her later.

From over Paris's shoulder, Rory watched as he exited the room.

---

He'd never been too great at making friends. All his life, he'd only had two great friends, Jess and Lane. And now, as he entered the cafeteria, headphones once again secured over his ears, he knew he didn't care. All he needed in life awaited him back in Stars Hollow.

Rory watched from above her book as he entered the cafeteria, scanned the tables and moved towards an empty seat near the window.

"Gilmore…not you too," Finn piped in upon seeing where Rory's glance had fallen.

Rory broke away from Tristan to meet Finn's eyes as they smiled at her. "Huh? What?"

"It's sickens me to see you this way. How can you have sunk so low?" There was a smile playing at his lips but both he and Rory knew that he was serious. Finn, always acting the part of the older brother, never approved of the guys she chose.

"What are you babbling about Finn," Rory inquired, coming back to her senses.

"You, and every other girl here, have a thing for that…that Justin bloke."

"It's Tristan," Rory found her self correcting the mistake for the second time.

"Well now, already on a first name basis are we?" Collin mocked from across the table.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Rory spat back and grinned.

"Hardly," Collin retorted. Now the entire table had their eyes focused on Tristan.

"Since you're so fond of the guy, how about we invite him over to our table?" Logan, feigning politeness, turned to Rory and asked.

Logan had the same mentality as Finn. He didn't think any guy was good enough for Rory or any of the other three girls to date. And he only put up with the guys they dated because Rory always called him on their double standards, saying how the girls never insulted any of the bimbos the guys dated. Well, not really anyways.

"Leave it alone okay," Rory retorted, a hint of irritation in her voice. The table went silent.

---

Nursing his can of coke, he flipped through the pages of his latest book. Every so often, her presence drew him in and his gaze left the words on his book and landed on her. It was almost mechanical.

At the moment, she seemed wrapped up in a conversation she was having with one of her friends, a tall male with dark brown hair. She looked animated.

A slight rustle to his left pulled him back to reality and as he turned, his eyes fell on Isabelle.

She reached over and pulled his head phones off, sliding them down to his neck. A dazzling smile decorated her features.

"Hey gorgeous, I saw you sitting all alone and decided to offer my company? You interested?" Eyes focused on him and lips set in a pout, she waited for his answer.

"Um…sure?" came his unsure reply.

"Great" she giggled and shifted closer to him.

"So what are you reading?" Her hands had somehow found their way across his shoulders.

He turned the cover towards her and let her read the title.

"The Picture of Dorian Gray?" The quizzical note in her voice told him that she had never heard of the book.

"Yes, It's about a man named Dorian Gray whose age and ill repute have been transferred into a painting…sort of giving him eternal yo…" he trailed off, catching the vacant look in her eyes. "Call it plastic surgery without the needles and botox," he switched gears and was rewarded with a smile.

"Oh," she cooed, further snuggling into him. She was practically on his lap now. Despite the fact that she looked and acted like a lamb ready for the slaughter, Tristan knew that Isabelle knew exactly what she was doing. He had picked up on that the first time he had run into her.

Tristan grinned. "Do you want to borrow it," he asked. Her slender fingers were tangled in his hair.

"How about you read it to me instead," she purred at which a chuckle escaped his lips. She really knew how to work a guy.

---

"…so I ended up choosing the yellow stilettos instead of the red ones…" Maddie's voice floated through the air. "Do you think that was a good choice Rory…I mean yellow really isn't my color but…Rory…Rory!"

Someone was calling her name.

"Huh? What? Yeah yellow, yellow, great choice…great choice," Rory deadpanned.

Now everyone's gaze was fixed on her.

"Love, you alright?" Finn inquired, moving to place a hand across her forehead.

Scowling, she shoved him off. "I'm fine Finnegan." She ducked her head and took a bite of her sandwich but she didn't taste anything. For all she knew, it could have been made of sawdust.

The truth of the matter was that she wasn't fine. She was far from it. She'd had yet another argument with her grandparents. The same argument as every other time; same plotline, different dialogue.

---

"Because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim…" he trailed off, once again noticing the look in her eyes. She was hanging on to every word but it didn't seem to be getting through.

He scanned the length of the page and settled on a passage he thought she might like. He didn't know why, but he found Isabelle amusing.

"Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful." This time, as he finished, he noticed her eyes were round with curiosity and interest.

"So what did you think?" he asked her, taking a sip of his drink.

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it," she echoed in a husky whisper. "Interesting."

"Isabelle…," came a singsong voice from behind him, "whose your gorgeous friend?" He felt someone slide in next to him and pivoted just in time to see a petite blond sit down and stare up at him.

A few other girls joined the table, all sending him pouty smiles.

"This ladies, is Tristan." Her voice had lost its sultry edge. He nodded politely at the girls before closing his book and taking another sip of this drink.

---

"Your friend looks like quite the ladies man, Rore," Collin called to her and motioned at something to the right of her.

She looked up from her book and allowed her gaze to drift to Tristan. He was surrounded by Isabelle and her friends, apparently engaged in what appeared to be an amusing conversation. She didn't know how to feel.

"He's taking away all your action Finn," Collin chortled. Finn however, was far from amused.

The bell rang indicating the end of lunch. Relieved for any excuse to get out of there, Rory quickly packed up her things, threw out a quick 'see you later' and bolted for her locker.

Tristan did the same.

---

As the final bell rang, she packed up her books and headed out of the classroom, towards her locker. People smiled at her or called to her in the hallway but wrapped up in her thoughts, she barely noticed anything. Even when she was only a foot away from him, lounging against her locker, she didn't see Jack and only when he called her name repeatedly did she finally return to reality.

Jack stood leaning against the locker to the left of her own locker, brow furrowed in concern or irritation…she couldn't tell.

"Hey." He knew he was treading on thin ice. Fists shoved in his pockets, eyes focused directly on her, he looked sincere.

"Hey," she returned the greeting half heartedly.

"Look Rore, I'm sorry about dragging in…"

"It's fine." She spun the combination on her lock and opened the door. As always, her locker was pristine, everything in its place. Extending herself on the tips of her toes, she reached for a text book on the highest shelf. She needed to get started on her Biology assignment.

"I was drunk and totally out of it. I really didn't mean to…"

"It's fine," she cut him off again. Maybe she could start on the English assignment today and work on Biology tomorrow.

"Rore," he spoke as he came around her and took her chin in his hand. "I'm sorry."

---

Isabelle had insisted on Tristan escorting her to her locker.

As they strode through the corridors, she waved and winked at people, all the while keeping her hand linked with his. Tristan merely smiled. Jess would find this beyond amusing. And Lane, she'd find a way to a make a connection between this scenario and some 60's song.

Beside him, Isabelle chatted away, something about a party this weekend.

As they turned a corner, Tristan's eyes instantly landed on Rory…and some guy she was with. They same guy from the club.

For a moment, he paused, earning a silence from Isabelle. She had been in the middle of inviting him to the party when his sudden stop had forced her to cut off mid sentence.

"Oh, yeah, that's Jack and Rory," Isabelle explained upon seeing where Tristan's gaze had landed. "They've been together for about a hundred years now, off and on, off and on. I mean really. I don't know what he sees in her." Once again, her voice had lost that sultry edge. "She's not even that pretty." They both knew that was a lie. Tristan could almost hear the jealousy in her tone.

"Rory?" he questioned. He'd thought her name was Mary.

Tristan watched as Jack cupped Rory's chin and halted any movement on her part. So, she had a boyfriend.

"Come on, lets go," came Isabelle's voice from beside him, "this is dull." She tugged at his arm and walked him towards a different corridor.

---

"Jack," she shrugged off his touch, "I said it was fine okay. No need to apologize."

"Fine," he pulled back and once again leaned against a locker.

"Look, I have to go home now. Robert's expecting me." She closed her locker and turned to him. "I'll…I'll call you later."

Before he could respond, she was already half way down the hall.

---

Perched on the top of a bench, he moved his gaze from his book to his watch. He'd been waiting for the bus for fifteen minutes. Frustrated, he returned to his book.

It was only ten minutes later, when he heard his name that he looked up from his book.

Seated in a silver convertible, a Porsche by the looks of it, sunglasses perched on the top of her head, she waved at him to get in.

Intrigued, he got off the bench and sauntered over to the car before tossing his bag into the back seat and getting in.

"Buckle up," was all she said as she shifted gears and drove off.

**---**

**I know not too much went on in this chapter but bear with me. I wanted to set the base for the story and this chapter is sort of like a "leading up to something good" chapter. The next few chapters will include a massive party, Stars Hollow and hopefully appearances by Jess. Go Jess! Thank you for all the reviews and I hope you keep them coming.**

**Cheers.**


	4. Chapter Four

**_- Chapter Four -_**

Road rules, and the law for that matter, didn't seem to apply to her. She sped through changing lights and stop signs, didn't seem to be familiar with or rather, care for, the speed limit, and ever the epitome of patience, zigzagged through traffic, honking her horn at stragglers. Through it all, the serene smile at her lips never once faltered.

Some random song oozed out of the radio and was lost to the wind. He wondered about what kind of music she listened to, what books she read, what authors she preferred, if any.

"Ooh, this is my favorite part," she piped up, turning the volume up on the car radio.

_With the taste of your lips I'm on a ride,_

_You're toxic, I'm slipping under_

_Taste of your poison I'm melting…_

_I'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic._

"Too high, can't come down, it's in the air and it's all around, do you feel me now," she sang along, every now and then turning to him and making a random face.

He threw his head back and laughed, pulled in by her charm. Despite the horrible music, he was actually enjoying himself.

She sang every verse, did every sound effect and by the end of it, had him singing along with her.

Four Britney songs later, heading his directions, they drove into Stars Hollow.

"You're kidding me, right?" she spoke up, coming to a halt in front of Andrew's bookstore, referring to the surreal quality of it all. They had just passed Kirk a few blocks black, selling pink lemonade from a stand.

"I'm afraid not," he responded grinning, and got out of the car, "home sweet home." She followed after him.

"Unreal. I feel like I'm trapped in an episode of Leave It To Beaver." Making a perch for her sunglasses atop her head, she took in her surroundings; from the troubadour serenading a small crowd down the block to the gaggle of little girls in tutus making their way across the street.

"You have to see it during Christmas. Kirk, he was the guy in the lemonade stand…he dresses up as Santa Clause and…well…uh…he mostly just freaks out the kids, but you gotta admire the guy for trying."

"I'll take that under consideration," she responded, clearly amused.

"Sweetheart" a voice rang from behind them. Miss Patty and Babette sauntered over to them, clearly interested in finding out whom the new female was.

Tristan smiled and leaned back against the car. This should be interesting.

"Who's your friend, doll?" Babette questioned, lacing her arm through his.

"This is Isabelle," Tristan introduced, "she's a friend from school."

"Hello dear," Miss Patty, taking Isabelle by the hand, smiled. "Don't you look adorable in your little uniform. I'll tell you, if I'd had that kind of get up back in the day, I certainly could have…"

"Patty," came a voice from down the street, and they all turned as Taylor made his way towards them. "I wasn't done talking to you."

"Quick, let's get out of here before he catches up," Babette chimed in, letting go of Tristan and grabbing Miss Patty.

"Don't walk away. I see you…stop, don't walk away…Patty! Babette!" Taylor hobbled past Tristan and Isabelle, huffing after the pair.

"Maybe I should consider a permanent move here," a few seconds later Isabelle spoke up through a wide grin.

"I don't know…" he teased, "I'm not sure you could handle it."

"You'd be surprised at what I could handle," she countered, moving to stand in front of him, so that she had him pinned against her car.

He let out a chuckle, locking eyes with her.

"You want to kiss me don't you?" she put in almost nonchalantly, extending herself on her toes

"I'm not sure _what_ to do with you."

"Here's a start," she pouted, taking his arms and draping them around her shoulders.

"Now what?" he teased, standing straighter so that now, he towered above her.

"Now you kis…" he cut her off by taking her chin in his hands and descending his mouth to hers. It was quick but deep and when he pulled back, she exhaled softly, eyes smiling up at him.

"So," he grinned, "you hungry? I know a place just down the street…"

"Actually, I have to be getting back," she responded, sending him a deep pout.

His smile wavered but remained on his face. "Sure…next time."

She twirled around and in one graceful movement opened the car door and slid back in. Still grinning he closed it after her, hands lingering on the vehicle.

"So…I guess I'll just see you at school tomorrow?"

"Actually, there's this party tonight…and you're going to take me," Isabelle responded, turning on the engine.

"I don't remember saying yes to that." Despite himself, he was grinning like an idiot, arms anchored against the car. He found her hard to resist.

"That's because I didn't ask," she put in before reaching for his collar and pulling him down for a kiss. This kiss was deeper, with Isabelle taking full control, tugging at his lips and parting them with her tongue.

Feeling someone's presence near, Tristan pulled back and stood in mild awkwardness as his eyes connected with four other sets of eyes; Miss Patty, Babette, Taylor and Kirk, all stared back at him.

"I guess that's my cue," Isabelle chimed in, pulling on her shades. "I'll pick you up here at 8:00." With that, she threw a wide-eyed Kirk a wink and drove off.

The next ten minutes were spent hearing Taylor's lecture on the wrongs of public displays of affection.

---

"No…too Emo…" sitting atop his bed, Lane chirped in, referring to the black t-shirt he had pulled out of his closet. "It says 'no one understands me, so don't try to.' You want something more approachable."

"I didn't realize it said anything," Tristan responded, crumpling up the shirt and throwing it at her.

"Don't get violent. You need my expertise…hey how about that green one with the robot donkey…good colour, somewhat political and confusing enough so its artsy but not pretentious…ooh or that red one with that hand and dollar sign…that'll probably speak more to them…"

"Lane…"

"…or do you think you should go more country club and less rock club…maybe pastels, do you have anything from Lacoste…"

"Lane!"

"Or Ralph Lauren…"

"Or how about I just go naked…you know, really make a splash."

"I don't know," she responded, leaning back against the headboard. "I just can't see you pulling that off…" Her words were cut off as another shirt came flying at her head.

"Seriously Tristan, you have to wear something nice…"

"Okay mom."

"Mock all you want, but you're the one who wanted my help."

"Wanted your help? _Wanted_ your help? As I recall, you sauntered in here without an invitation and just started throwing orders around."

"And good thing too. Otherwise you might have walked out looking like a Backstreet Boy…unless that's what you're supposed to wear to a Chilton party…

"Lane…"

"Do you have any sweater vests…something argyle?"

"Mrs. Kim, what are you doing up here?" Tristan interrupted, speaking to someone just behind Lane and watched in amusement as she sprang up from the bed and was met by dead air.

"Not funny!" she threw back, grabbing a book from his shelf and tossing it at his head. Grinning, he ducked out of the way while she fell back against the headboard.

"Yeah, well…you're making this into such a big deal…

"That's because it is…"

"Lane, it's just some stupid party…"

"…Slash date that could determine the rest of your social life at Chilton," she finished dramatically, rising from the bed, pushing him out of her way and searching through the closet.

"What are you doing," he called in after her.

"Picking something out for you," came her voice as she dug further into his closet, throwing shoes, socks and an array of t-shirts past his head.

"I think I can dress myself thanks," he put in before pulling her out of his closet, ushering her out of his room and closing the door after her.

"No…" came her muffled voice from the other side of the door…"you really can't."

He chuckled to himself before turning up the volume on his radio.

---

Clad in a blue shirt and jeans, hands balled into fists in his pockets, he walked languidly towards Andrew's bookshop. The air was crisp, a hint of autumn in the air.

She was waiting for him, leaning against the hood of her car, legs stretched out in front of her. Dressed in a deep red sundress, the hem of which rested several inches above her knees, she looked gorgeous. And she knew it.

"Wow," he smiled at her, running a hand across his chin.

"Tell me about it," she too smiled before arching off the car and gracefully entering in through the door he held open.

---

She laced her fingers through his and guided him up a small set of marble stairs. On their way from the parking area and up the giant lawn, they'd passed by several partygoers passed out here and there.

He marveled at the grandeur of it all, taking in everything from the acres and acres of front lawn to the giant mansion that stood at its center.

They walked in through the open door and he had to hold back from gasping. The place was enormous, almost cavernous with a giant staircase that greeted guests at the main foyer and parted in two sections at the second level. Various paintings surveyed the partygoers from every wall and two crystal chandeliers draped down from a vaulted ceiling.

"Come on," came Isabelle's voice and he let her take him by the hand and guide him into an adjacent room. As they entered, he recognized a few people but no greetings were passed. Clearly, they had not been expecting him.

"Who's your friend Isabelle," a tall guy with a bottle in hand ventured.

"Not that it's any of your business Derek, but this is Tristan," she put in before reaching for two cups on the counter.

"Does Mike know about Kristan?" he inquired, taking a sip from his bottle and grinning.

"Clever, you come up with that all by yourself?" his own grin in place, more out of annoyance than humor, Tristan countered, taking the cup offered to him by Isabelle who had moved to stand between the two.

"Mike who?" she put in cleanly before taking Tristan by the hand once more and guiding him out of the room.

"So, whose Mike?" he called out after her as they weaved through the crowd.

"My boyfriend," she put in casually.

"And he's okay with you being out with another guy?" Tristan asked incredulously.

"It's okay with _me_," she turned to him and purred, before continuing through the crowd, hand still clasped in his.

He didn't know what to make of her.

Several seconds later, he found himself in the doorway of a massive room filled to the brim with people.

Writhing would have been a better way to describe the dancing going on in the room. Generally couples, intoxicated or on the verge of being intoxicated, took over what Tristan thought was a living room of sorts, engaged in everything from dancing to sex with clothes on.

"You wanna try that?" sultry grin in place, Isabelle pointed at a couple grinding up against one another.

"Do you mean dancing…or dry sex," he countered, taking a sip from his cup.

"Why don't we start with dancing and then work our way down from there," she put in smoothly before taking his cup away and walking off to the dance floor.

Running a hand across his jaw, amusement written all over his features, Tristan followed, coming up behind her and lacing an arm around her waist.

She moved with fluidity, her back to him, an arm draped around his neck. He held her close, one arm resting above her own while the other languidly held her waist.

The music was loud so there was no chance for conversation so for the next half hour they simply danced, swaying to the music.

---

A pounding headache was making its presence known at her temple, but from the smile at her lips, one would have never known.

She longed to be at home, curled up on her bed, instead of on a couch surrounded by people she cared nothing about. But Jack had coerced her into it.

Jack, with an arm around her shoulders and surrounded by his friends, made a comment and she laughed along with the others. The humor, however, did not reach her eyes.

She sank back against the couch, taking in the scene around her.

As it had been several hours into the party, most of the guests were severely intoxicated and as such, partaking in one crass act or another. In one corner, a couple was engaged in act that should have been executed behind closed doors.

Some partygoers were even passed out on the floor, empty cups, cigarette butts and the like scattered around them.

Teenage wasteland indeed.

Those that grouped around her and Jack, generally football players and their sycophantic girlfriends, sat glued to Jack's every word, not drunk enough to pass an opportunity to fawn over the reigning king of Chilton. Dressed alike, the guys in their letterman jackets and the girls in their whorish skirts and five inch heels, and practically sharing the same vain, materialistic personalities, they were all of them sheep.

And she was a part of it all.

She suddenly wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.

Instead she downed her sixth drink of the night, before briskly rising from the couch, making an excuse about the little girl's room.

In her haste, however, she did not miss the look in Jack's eyes. He saw past her excuse.

She weaved through the crowds, hoping to find the entrance to the back yard. It was suffocating in here.

Several times, she nearly toppled over, the walls spinning around her. She bumped into several people but most were too intoxicated to care.

Louise, making her way upstairs with some guy, called a faint greeting, asking if she was okay.

Rory nodded to her before continuing her way towards an exit.

The spinning was getting worse and she quickened her pace, needing fresh air.

She bumped into another person but through her disorientation, she couldn't decipher who it was. Not that it mattered. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Several times, she thought she heard her name, but tangled in an alcoholic daze and merging with the pulsating beats emanating from every room, she couldn't be too sure.

She caught the faint smell of fresh cut grass and turned in that direction, groping the walls for some sort of support. A sudden breeze, flying about the room, added further incentive to her drunken exploration and she forced her legs to cooperate.

Again, someone called out her name. But she didn't care. She just needed to get out of this mess.

Noises fading away, she finally made it to what seemed to be a side yard, sprawling into the dark for acres and acres. She ambled down a small flight of stairs and moved further into the yard, leaving behind all the noise and chaos. There was a small bench a few yards away from where she stood, set between a pair of willow trees and she moved towards it. But it seemed so far away and she wasn't sure if her traitorous feet, now refusing to follow her directions, would let her get to that spot.

Something caught her feet and she lost her balance, falling backwards, her feet flying out in front of her.

---

He was there before she hit the ground, cradling her body into an upright position.

Still disoriented, she tried to push him off, but he held on, afraid that the moment he let go, she would hurt her self.

"Rory, calm down, it's Tristan," he tried and relaxed as she stopped the struggling. Rising to a better position, he carried her to a bench, setting her down and crouching low in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he questioned after a few moments, rising to take a seat beside her.

She gave no answer.

Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink and strands of hair had come undone from where they were gathered at the base of her neck and. Her shirt was slightly askew and she seemed on the verge of passing out. Realizing that he'd been staring, he quickly pulled his eyes away from her, letting them fall across the lawn instead.

The party looked to be a million miles away and the music and drunken laughter too had faded to just background noise.

"You can go now," she broke through the silence abruptly and he turned to her, confused.

"What?"

"You-can-go-now," she met his gaze and repeated, pausing between each word as if communicating with a child. She looked completely lucid now, and irritated.

Something like annoyance flared up inside but he suppressed it.

"Are you sure?" Even before the words had left his lips, he knew her answer.

"I can take care of myself, thanks," she put in smoothly, lips meeting in a hard line.

Shrugging, he got up from the bench and moved to leave. But something held him in place.

"How are you going to get home?" He knew she wanted him to leave but he couldn't help himself.

"Not your problem," she let her eye lids flutter shut and leaned her head against one of the willow trees.

"Are you –"

"Look, you did your little good Samaritan bit so now I'd appreciate it if you left me alone," she cut in, anger adding a slight edge to her words.

He really couldn't figure her out. The first time they'd met, she nearly bit his head off for walking in front of her car, and for the rest of that day she'd completely ignored him. Yet, when they'd met again at the club, it had somehow felt different.

Frustrated he let out a sigh. She confused the hell out of him.

"Look," she broke through his reverie, "it's really not that complicated. You put one foot in front of the other and…"

"How many personalities exactly do you have?" This time, he was the one to make an interruption.

"I mean, at school you're one way but at the club, you were so, so…different," he finished weakly, from a lack of a better word.

She let out a laugh, high pitched and without any real mirth.

"At the club, I was drunk."

"As opposed to now, when you're clearly sober."

"Exactly."

Frustrated, he ran a hair through his hair. He honestly had no clue as to why he was still here, arguing with her.

"Just go back to the stupid party—" she broke off, clenching her fists against her eyes.

"Rory," he was back at her side but she rose from the bench and moved away from him.

"I'm fine, just leave me alone—" she nearly buckled at the knees, collapsing against him. He steadied her with his hands and felt his insides constrict as he caught sight of her face. Her brow was furrowed in pain and the colour had drained from her skin, her face as pale as porcelain.

"Can I take you to your car?"

"I just need to lie down for a minute. The headache will pass after that." He was surprised at how her tone had changed, not a hint of anger or irritation in her words.

"Should I take you inside—"

"No," she interrupted, a slight panic in her eyes. He doubted she wanted anybody else seeing her like this. "My car," she pointed to their left, leaning heavily against him, her words haggard. "I parked it along one of the side streets."

Not knowing what else to do, he led her out of the yard through a side gate, turning down a street now and then as she indicated between small gasps of pain.

It was only when they'd stopped in front of her car that he realized he still had an arm around her waist, holding her tight against him, while her head rested languidly at his shoulder. To a passerby, they could have been a happy couple, out for a stroll.

As if realizing the same thing, she peeled away from him, reaching to unlock the driver's seat door, swaying on her feet.

"Just let me drive you home okay," he tried, his right hand moving to cup her hand where it lingered above the handle. He quickly pulled back however, thinking better of it.

For a moment, she simply stared at him and watched the change in her eyes.

"Fine," she sighed opening the door and sliding to the passenger seat.

The corners of his mouth pulled up in a soft smile before he pulled the keys from where she'd left them on the door.

Twenty minutes later, once again following her directions, he brought the car to a rest through an impressive set of gates, alongside a beautiful, stone fountain.

The mansion that loomed at the end of the drive way was more lavish than anything he'd come across in Stars Hollow.

"So what? You're going to walk home?" elbow propped against an open window, she questioned.

"No," he laughed, "I'll catch a cab or something." He felt the air change around them, become slightly more comfortable.

He turned to look at her and was relieved to find her looking recovered, though still a bit tired. He wondered whether he should walk her to the door but thought better of it.

She shifted in her seat. "I can get someone to drive you…"

"It's not a big deal," he interrupted, a grin racing to his features. "I can take care of myself."

For a few seconds, a devastatingly beautiful smile covered her features. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.

"Well, thanks," she put in hastily turning away to reach for the handle on her door.

"Your welcome," he replied, moving to exit from the vehicle too. He wondered which personality she'd greet him with the next week at school.

A hand at his wrist pulled him back to reality. He turned just as she crashed her lips against his, hands moving to lock behind his neck.

Despite his better judgment, pulled in, he responded, pulling her onto his lap, arms encircling her waist. Her lips were soft and fiery, moving against his in unison, parting them with intensity.

He pulled her further against him, one hand racing up her spine to her hair while the other remained at the small of her back. He felt her hands at his nape, stroking patterns into his skin, then at his collar, moving down the line of buttons on his shirt.

His lips froze, sanity rushing back to replace his momentary lapse, and he pulled back. He wasn't going to take advantage of her like this. Unaware, she simply moved to his throat, lingering at the base of his neck.

"Rory," he called but she carried on.

"Stop."

She broke away as if singed, rushing to move out of his lap.

"I'm sorry, I just don't think…" he tried to explain, catching the quick cloud that moved across her eyes.

"It's fine," she put in quickly, regaining her icy composure. "Isabelle is probably waiting for her latest toy to return anyways."

He'd completely forgotten about Isabelle.

"Rory," he tired again but she was already moving out the door.

"Rory."

"Bye Tristan," she called out over her shoulder, rushing up a small set of granite steps and disappearing through a set of heavy oak doors.

---


	5. Chapter Five

_**- Chapter Five -**_

"Mrs. Woodrow asked about you Rory," said her grandmother, setting down her fork and smiling broadly. "She was very impressed by you at our last D.A.R. meeting." From the head of the table, her grandfather flipped a page in the newspaper he was reading.

Rory smiled at her grandmother and refocused on her food. The eggs benedict was doing little to settle her stomach. But her grandmother had insisted on a full meal so Rory had complied, pushing past the hangover.

At the Gilmore house, Sunday Breakfast was a grand affair, and had all the grandeur of a meal with the Queen.

"Anita, please bring in some more hollandaise sauce," he grandmother called out and Rory had to restrain from covering her ears. She really wished she were back in bed.

Perfect smile in place, her grandmother turned back to Rory.

"Did you enjoy yourself at the last meeting Rory?"

"Sure grandma."

"It wasn't too much of a bore for you, being cooped up with a bunch of silly, old ladies?" Rory could see exactly where this was heading.

"You're not old grandma and I had fun." With the practice of years, the words spilled out effortlessly.

"So, does that mean you'll be interested in hosting our next meeting? We're thinking of something along the lines of a Monte Carlo Night. Perhaps at the country club."

Despite how it sounded, Rory knew that it wasn't a question or a request.

Pushing the egg around her plate, she nodded her head. "Sure grandma, I'd love to."

"Excellent."

---

"Kirk, for the last time, I have no clue what hollandaise sauce is and even if I did, I wouldn't make it for you."

"Well what sauces do you carry?" Kirk questioned, head peeking from over a menu.

With a soft thud, Tristan placed a bottle of ketchup in front of Kirk. "Enjoy."

He'd been agitated the whole morning, and most of Saturday too, and Kirk was doing little to calm his frustration. Slipping off his apron, he went in search of his father.

He found him in the back storage closet, pulling out packages.

"Dad, the morning rush is pretty much done with. Do you mind if I run out for a minute?"

"Sure," his father put down the packages and answered. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I just need to clear my head for a bit," he threw out quickly, not needing his father to worry about his petty little problems.

Throwing a quick smile at Babette, Tristan rushed out the diner doors.

He headed straight for the park, one of his favorite haunts. About halfway there, someone walked up beside him and looped their arm through his.

"Hurry, pretend you're talking to me," Lorelai pleaded, throwing a quick glance across her shoulder.

"What—"

"Why yes Tristan, I miss the old Tom Cruise too," she cut in hurriedly, pulling him along at a steady pace.

"Lorelai, oh this is silly. I know you can hear me." Tristan recognized Taylor's voice as it wafted in from behind them.

"I don't believe it," her voice an octave higher, Lorelai continued. "Cocktail is _my_ favorite Tom Cruise movie too!"

They crossed the street, Lorelai pulling him along, and a few minutes later, finally managed to lose Taylor.

When she was sure they'd left him behind, Lorelai slowed down her pace, a smile dancing across her features.

"You sure do come in handy, Tristan," she beamed at him, ecstatic that he'd helped her avoid Taylor.

He only frowned at her. "Cocktail? You couldn't have at least said Days of Thunder? Or Top Gun?"

"Pssh," she waved aside his complaint. "Cocktail was Tom at his finest. Did you _not_ see those fancy moves with the glasses and the coolers and the lemon slices…" Lorelai rambled on and Tristan found himself laughing along.

Finally done with her rant, she stopped to drop by the post office.

"Thanks for your help, Cole Trickle," she smiled at him before disappearing into the building.

"You owe me," he called after her, continuing on towards the park.

---

She didn't know why it bothered her so much, why it sent her thoughts racing a mile a minute.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that she'd never been rejected before by anyone. Usually, she was the one doing the rejecting, the one in control. It irritated her to no end losing that control.

Frustrated, she picked up her keys and headed for her car. She threw out a quick goodbye to Robert and left the mansion. Her grandparents were off at some assembly.

Once on the road, she felt the tension easing, her thoughts settling. The hangover still raged against her temple, but she pushed past it.

---

He was sitting on a bench, brow furrowed in thought, when his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his jeans pocket and answered.

"Hello?"

"You're lucky I'm even calling you after last night," a soft voice crooned at the other end. "But I just can't seem to stay away, Tristan."

"Isabelle?"

"Forgotten me already?" she huffed, but he caught a note of amusement in her voice.

"How could anyone forget you, Isabelle," he found himself smiling, relaxing against the bench.

"You certainly seem to have."

He laughed out loud. "Look, I'm really sorry about the party. Something came up and I had to leave." He really was sorry for having deserted her but he doubted whether his absence had affected her much. After all, every guy at the party had seemed more than ready to take his place on the dance floor with her.

"A likely story," came her voice from the other end. "But you can make it up to me next weekend."

"Let me guess, another party?"

"Even better. A rave."

---

A maid let her in, taking her coat and shuffling away to stow it in a closet. She was there often enough for the maids to recognize who she was.

She moved out of the foyer and up the stairs, heading for his room.

He was still sleeping when she barged in, barely awake when she shifted aside his sheets and confused when she straddled him.

"Rory? What—" he began, but her lips on his blocked out the rest of his sentence. He responded automatically, rolling her onto her back, arching her body into his. The kiss was intense, her lips parting his abruptly, tongue sliding out to meet his. Obviously enjoying it, he kissed her back, arms tight around her waist.

After a few moments, he pulled back and looked at her. "Are you okay?"

"Just kiss me Jack," she smiled before pulling him back to her, arms racing to tangle behind his neck.

---

Monday morning, the class was nearly empty when he walked in and took his usual seat. He caught sight of her friends, but Rory was nowhere to be seen.

Something like disappointment flaring at the pit of his stomach, he took a seat, puling out his books and settling them on the tabletop.

Several more students filed in and took their seats. Annoyed with himself for acting like such and idiot, looking up expectantly every time someone walked in the door, he pulled on his headphones and tuned out the world. There was still ten minutes to go before the opening bell.

It was several minutes later, when someone slid the headphones down to his neck that he zoned back to reality.

"What's got you looking so miserable?" Isabelle crooned at his ear, arms lingering around at his shoulders.

He let out a laugh, turning in his chair to face her.

"I was going for the whole, broody, lone wolf thing."

"Riiiight," she extended the word, as if unsatisfied with his answer. "Anyways, as I was telling you last night…the rave is this Friday and I can pick you up at the same place.

"You sure you don't need me to pick you up?" he questioned.

"Depends on what kind of car you drive."

"Um…I drive my dad's truck?" he tried, not sure whether she was kidding or not.

"Hmm," she pondered his answer, "as long as you're sitting in there with me, I guess I can handle a…truck."

Tristan laughed internally at her matter of fact tone. He was never sure how to interpret Isabelle.

"Anyways, the rave is at a warehouse just outside Hartford," Isabelle carried on and Tristan pivoted in his seat to grab a pen and piece of paper. She started dictating the directions to her house from behind his shoulder.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement to his left and his head rose up just as Rory was walking into the classroom.

She looked the same; just as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her. As if she'd overheard his thoughts, a few desks away from his own, her eyes wandered over to his.

He smiled at her but her features remained stone cold, eyes dark and lips set in a hard line.

For the briefest of moments, she paused at his desk, as if she had something to say. But quick as a flash, she was already walking away towards her own seat.

Several seconds later, when he turned back to Isabelle, he caught something in her eyes that was there for only a fragment of a second before a soft grin changed her features.

"Don't get lost okay, I really want to go to this party," she put in before throwing a quick nod in the direction of the doorway, where stood their teacher, and heading for her seat.

---

She was out of the classroom before he'd even packed his books, down the hall before he'd left the classroom.

She was absent from her usual table at lunch but at least for that hour, Isabelle and her friends managed to keep Rory out of his mind.

After school, Isabelle offered to give him a ride home, but he declined, pretending he had to stay after school for an assignment. The truth of the matter was that he was hoping to run into Rory.

For the rest of the day, she kept popping in and out of his thoughts and he was only too relieved when the bell rang at the end of the day. He wanted to find her and talk to her.

Grabbing his things, he headed for her locker, or at least the general area of her locker.

Catching a lucky break, he found her on her own, pulling out books.

"Rory," he said, coming to stand next to her.

She turned to look at him for half a second before turning back to her locker.

"Listen, about the other night—"

"What other night?" she threw over her shoulder, crouching down to pull out a stack of papers from the bottom of her locker.

"After the party…I just wanted—"

"Look, it was a stupid, drunken mistake and I'm sorry if I offended you or something," she interrupted again.

He wanted to retaliate, call her on her lie. Her tone, her refusal to make eye contact, everything alluded to it. But he didn't want to push her. Not after he'd been the one to pull away.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," he replied, balling his fists in his pockets and walking away.

The rest of the week flowed out with Rory pretending that Tristan didn't exist, ignoring his smiles and greetings.

Friday afternoon, heading for his locker, Isabelle sauntered past him, turning once to smile at him and yell out "wear something hot."

Grinning, he packed his things into his bag and headed out the doors. He had a few minutes till the bus arrived so he took the walk towards the stop at a casual stroll, a few people he recognized greeting him with a nod or a smile.

He caught sight of Rory and her friends, heading for the parking lot. As usual, he smiled at them and Louise and Madeline, smiled back at him. And as usual, Rory's lips were set in a hard line, eyes shifting quickly away from his.

He didn't really concern himself with Paris. He was used to her responses by now.

Paris never smiled

---

"You're hot enough for the both of us," Tristan insisted, smiling at her pout and helping Isabelle into the truck. She wasn't impressed that he'd come to pick her up in a black t-shirt and jeans.

"And besides," he questioned, coming around the front of the truck and getting into the driver's seat, "what did you expect me to come in? A mesh top and leather pants?"

"A girl can dream, can't she?" she countered, crossing her legs seductively and moving to rest her head against his right shoulder. Not that she needed any more help in that department. Her low-cut red top and leather pants left little to the imagination.

Clearing his throat in an attempt to settle his thoughts, Tristan shifted gears and put his focus back on the road.

The ride to the field took less than a half hour and even before they came in view of the actual party, the sound of it all wafted up to meet them.

Everything was happening at the base of a valley so only a fraction of the strobe lights and flashing bulbs reached the spot where they were parked. But the music was loud and pulsing, the notes hanging in the air hypnotically.

Tristan helped Isabelle out of the truck, drifting to the music. The sound system was amazing and the DJ even better.

"Tristan?" Isabelle sang his name as they reached the edge.

"Yeah," he replied, turning to her.

"You wouldn't mind giving me lift would you?" she beamed at him, lips set in a pout.

The hill wasn't altogether steep but, in her five-inch heels, there was no way she was going to make it all the way down in one piece.

Grinning, he motioned for her to get on his back before making his way down the slope. She snuggled into him, resting her head against his own.

"There really is no better way to travel," she laughed against his ear as they reached the bottom of the hill. But instead of letting her down, he carried her all the way to the center of the excitement, their laughter mixing with the noise and chaos around them.

---

Doing E at a rave; how predictable she'd become. Lying back against the couch, she waited for it to kick in. Fingers brushed against her cheek, but she ignored it, hoping the person would go away. When they continued to move up and down however, pausing at the hollow beneath her right eye, she jolted awake.

A pair of serene eyes smiled down at her, clearly lost in the same daze she was hoping to achieve. A petite woman, still in the process of retrieving her hand, smiled down at her. Clad in a metallic silver dress and sporting a halo of neon pink tubing, she could have been some kind of ethereal creature.

"You have beautiful skin," the angel called to her before her companion led her away.

Trying to regain her bearings, she closed her eyes again, snuggling up to the side of the couch. The music pounded in her ears, reverberating in her chest. Drowning in the noise felt wonderful and suffocating at the same time, and she brought her hands up to her face, shielding her eyes from the lights that overwhelmed her even through closed lids. Thoughts racing, she wondered where her friends were. Maddie and Louise had come with her but she'd lost track of them a while back. It didn't really matter. They'd call her cell if they needed anything.

"Does the pretty girl want to dance?" she caught Jack's voice through the thunderous music and found her self being lifted off the couch.

She would have objected but his arms around her felt comforting and solid, and she leaned into him, locking her arms around his neck. Beneath her touch, his skin was warm and she let her fingers linger at his nape, drawing pictures onto the exposed skin.

He let out that soft, guttural noise she loved and pulled her closer, head dipping to her hair. She spun around in his arms and dragged her fingers up and down his neck, swaying along to the music.

---

He'd played at some wild parties, but this was something he'd never experienced.

The first thing to hit him was the heat wave, not surprising considering that crammed into one space were thousands of people. He'd somewhat acclimatized to the music on the walk in, but when combined with the light show, he was on sensory overload.

The warehouse itself was dark and massive, extending off from the main section into several smaller areas. There was only one official level to the building but several metal staircases snaked their way up the walls, giving way to recesses and platforms along the upper section of the building. Elevated above the crowd in one of these recesses was the DJ, his equipment and massive stereos standing sentinel around him. Out of habit, he squinted his eyes and tried to decipher the man's face. But he was too far away for Tristan to make out any distinct features and the lighting did little to help him.

Projectors set up along beams that crisscrossed the roof displayed images against screens and walls, some spinning and twirling in time with the music. Every few minutes, green lasers panned the crowd from the opposite corners of the building, working with the roar of the music to disorient the senses.

Someone slipped a hand around his waist and he turned just in time to be embraced around the middle by a woman sporting neon pink hair cropped just below her jaw line. Before he could react, she had already pulled away, telling him to keep well hydrated.

"Trying to make me jealous?" Isabelle squeezed his hand and smirked, yelling over the music.

"Is it my fault that I'm so irresistible?" he pulled her in and spoke against her ear, and was rewarded with a silvery laugh.

"We are what we are," she put in before leading him towards the center of the excitement.

It was like fighting the tide, weaving their way through the throngs of people bobbing up and down, most too inebriated to move aside or care. He moved ahead so that he was at the lead, trying to shield Isabelle from some of the more unruly partiers.

Litter crunched beneath his feet and beads of sweat raced along his spine but he was too caught up to really care. Having suitably found the very heart of the party, Isabelle pulled him into dance and he obliged willingly, arms moving out to rest along her hips.

The strobe lights kicked in and the DJ weaved into a different song, faster and more intense and he felt the music echoing through him at an even stronger pace. It felt heavier and more solid against his chest, and he let his mind wander, needing to get lost in it.

Isabelle had her back to him, hands held above her head and she moved into him, grinding her body into his. He tried to concentrate on her but something had caught his attention. He'd been absentmindedly following the laser trails when his eyes had landed on _her_.

Barely three feet away stood Rory with her boyfriend, the couple swaying to the music just as he and Isabelle were. He caught snatches of her through the people that stood between them and she looked as beautiful as always. Her eyes were shut, lashes fanned out across her porcelain skin. Under the iridescent lights, it had an unearthly glow to it and he was pulled in.

A sudden gesture on her part, fingers flashing to squeeze the bridge of her nose, quickly erased the grin that had been spreading across his face. He watched as she peeled away from her boyfriend, and stalked off towards one of the side rooms, easily weaving through the crowd. Two girls were quick to take her place, one in front and one behind Jack. For a second, he seemed to hesitate and Tristan caught that torn look in his eyes. However, as one of the girls slipped her hand beneath his shirt, it quickly melted away.

Rory was completely out of sight when Tristan turned back to look for her. He froze on the spot and looked down at Isabelle. Her eyes too were closed and she seemed completely caught up in the music.

He contemplated whether he should disturb her but as Rory's pained expression flashed across his eyes, he bent low to whisper against Isabelle's ear.

"I'm going to go grab a bottle of water. You want one?"

She turned to face him, bringing her arms down to lock around his waist.

"Sure," she nodded, an odd look in her eyes. He grinned at her before untangling himself from her and heading for the sectioned off space Rory had disappeared into.

Half way there, he stopped as a pang of guilt erupted at his temple and he turned back to check on Isabelle. He had no reason to worry. Some guy had already taken his place.

---

Even in the smaller areas, the crowd was thick and that suffocating feeling pulled at her lungs. Her temple throbbed, and the room spun about her. For a split second, weaving through the masses, the pain went away. The Ecstasy had finally kicked in. Closing her eyes, she let the current pull her along for a while, content to stay in this elevated state forever.

Everything felt lighter, including her thoughts and dreads, and lost in the flashes of colour and thunderous music, she bobbed up and down in place, just another poor soul in the crowd. Arms twisted out to touch her neck, her back, move down to her hips, but she didn't have the strength to move away. Besides, she really wasn't in the mindset to care.

She felt great, light as a feather in a windstorm. No responsibilities to think of, no reasons to be sensible. She felt free. But when she reopened her eyes, the pain flared back and she nearly toppled over. Nearly toppled because lost in the throng of writhing bodies, she had no room to fall.

Someone took her hand, strong fingers securing around her wrist, and pulled her further into the room, away from the center of chaos. She didn't have the energy to protest.

---


	6. Chapter Six

_**- Chapter Six -**_

He jammed a bottle of water into her hands and when she simply stared at it, he opened it for her and forced her to take a few sips, guiding her hands with his. She finished the rest of the bottle on her own, lounging back against the wall. He'd led her off to a less crowded spot in one of the side rooms and found a place for them on the floor.

With one leg pulled up and bent at the knee and the other sprawled out in front of him, he too relaxed against the wall, eyes surveying the crowd. There was less people in here, some still moving to the music, others lying on couches or on the floor. Most seemed pretty out of it, various expressions on their faces.

Beside him, Rory stirred, dropping the empty plastic bottle to the floor and pulling her legs up underneath her.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned, turning his head to face her. She still had the same pained look on her face and her hands were trembling but she didn't seem in danger of collapsing.

"At least I'm not drunk this time, right?" she spoke softly, eyes dark.

Not knowing how to respond to her declaration, he chose instead to stare out into the crowd.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the air around them tense and uncomfortable.

"Should I take you back to your boyfriend?" he broke through and was surprised when she let out a bitter, high-pitched laugh.

"Jack's not my boyfriend."

"I thought…"

"You thought wrong," she interrupted, and he caught the acid in her tone. "He's just some guy I'm dating, nothing more."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching the excess and debauchery. This really was life in its most hedonistic form.

"I don't need a babysitter," a few minutes later, she broke through, bracing an arm against the back wall and slowly easing herself off the floor. "You can go now."

He also rose to his feet. "Say that again without swaying on your feet," he challenged as she rocked on her feet, leaning back against the wall for support. His instincts told him to help her but his pride held him back. He wasn't going to force his help on her.

"I'll be fine so leave me alone."

"Rory come on, you're about to collapse—"

"Why does that matter to you? You don't even know me."

"I'm trying to get to know you." Before they'd even had a chance to register, the words spilled out of his mouth.

Slowly, she turned to face him.

"Why?"

"Because I like you." Again, they fell from his lips, raw and honest. With her beautiful blue eyes on him, it was difficult to be anything but honest.

For an excruciating second, she simply stared up at him, eyes narrowed as if in anger. And then she was moving into him, crushing her body against his, lips parting against his.

He kissed her back, one hand securing her to him while the other wound its way into her hair.

They broke apart a few minutes later and he pulled in a much needed breath of air. Suddenly as knuckles collided with the side of his face, he found himself slammed against the wall before several well aimed kicks to the kidneys had him buckling to the ground.

Someone laughed as he regained his balance and tried to rise to his feet. But more kicks to the stomach had him on the floor again before an arm the size of a tree trunk took hold of his shoulder and pulled him up, slamming him against a wall, the concrete colliding painfully with the back of his head.

For a second, his vision blurred, little pops of white dancing before his eyes. He tried to shake off his captor, but found himself once again slammed against the wall, an arm coming up beneath his chin, across his upper torso, to further restrain him.

"Jack, tell him to stop!" The pained voice sounded like Rory's, but it sounded far away. He forced his eyes to cooperate, pushing against the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him, and caught sight of Jack, grinning. He had a hand around Rory's wrist, holding her back. To their right stood a guy Tristan recognized as a friend of Jack's from the night before. But he didn't recognize the two guys that held him. They didn't even look like they were in high school.

Jack made a move towards him, pushing Rory to his friend. She swayed dangerously on her feet before nearly collapsing against the unknown friend.

"I let your first little move on Rory slide Danes because…well because I'm a nice guy, and I didn't think you knew better," Jack grinned at Tristan before taking a fist to his stomach. Pain shot through his abdomen in spasm, but he muffled the groan that threatened to escape his lips. He wasn't going to give the coward the satisfaction.

Clearly enjoying his misery, Jack took another punch. With a muffled whoosh, the air was knocked out of him.

"But now I find you slobbering all over my girlfriend?" Jack continued, taking another punch, this time at Tristan's jaw. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt the blow vibrating through his skull but couldn't really think past the word 'girlfriend.'

"Stop it!" Rory screamed, straining at the arms that held her.

Tristan tried again to struggle free, but Jack's cronies forced him back, the concrete scraping against his spine.

Several people around them stared in bewilderment but most seemed too intoxicated to really care.

Jack threw another punch, this time a straight right hook, which was followed by a distinctive 'crunch.' As Tristan swayed, the soles of his feet scraping against the floor for support, he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Someone whispered the words "last warning" in his ear before it all went black.

---

He couldn't move his limbs or open his eyes, but he could hear voices around him.

"If he's dead, then we're tampering with a crime scene. That's a criminal offence and I'm too pretty to go to jail."

"Shut up Finn, he's not dead."

He heard the shuffling of feet and felt something soft being pressed under his nose. It felt like a towel or cloth of some sort.

"Well look at you all Florence-Nightingale…"

"For the last time Finn, shut the hell up before I give _you_ a broken nose. This is serious."

"Remind me again why we're doing this?"

They were worsening the buzzing in his head.

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because I think he might the answer to our Jack problem."

The name was the trigger he needed. Anger fueled his body into action and coughing, he rolled to his side. Several seconds later, he struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the stabbing pain that followed every twitch of his muscles.

"Tristan," one of the voices called, and he struggled to see past the haze.

Three figures were huddled around him.

"You alright mate?" one of the figures inquired.

"Of course he's not alright, you moron. He's just been…"

"I'm fine," Tristan coughed out, despite feeling the complete opposite. Every inch of him hurt but not as much as his nose. Slowly, he moved a hand to survey the damage. It didn't feel broken so he did the only thing he could. Cupping his nose between his thumbs, he popped it back into place.

This earned a series of groans from the people around him.

Shaking his head to clear away the haze, he took in the people around him. He recognized Paris right away, and her friend Louise. But he couldn't place the guy kneeling next to them. But from the conversation he had overheard, he assumed the guy's name was Finn.

"Let's get you cleaned up shall we," Louise broke through after several seconds of awkward silence. Letting her help him, Tristan rose to his feet, as did Paris and Finn.

When Tristan teetered on his feet, Finn moved to his side for support and led him out of the club.

It was still dark out when they emerged from the building, a cathartic autumn breeze quick to greet them. Testing out his repaired nose, he took in large gulps of air, disregarding the pain in his abdomen as the muscles expanded and contracted.

Finn led them to a bench and helped Tristan ease onto it, before taking a seat beside him. Louise moved to Finn's other side, while Paris settled on pacing back and forth in front of them.

"Well…thanks," after several minutes of silence, Tristan put in feebly, unsure of how to take their sudden interest and help.

"Jack did this, right?" Paris, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in anger, questioned.

Blood had once again begun to pool in his mouth and he spat to the side before turning to address her. "A friend of yours?"

"Hardly," Paris laughed. "We only put up with him for Rory's sake.

Amidst the chaos, he'd completely forgotten about Rory.

"Is she okay?" he questioned Paris, rising from his feet.

"I'm sure she's fine," said Paris, and Tristan caught the resentment in her voice. "I'm sure she's off somewhere with _him. _

Relaxing, he sat back down again.

"You don't know that for sure," Finn piped in. "For all we know, she's at home, alone."

"Come on Finn," Paris turned on him, "we all know she's with Jack. She's always with Jack. Despite what he does or who he fucks, she's always with Jack."

"Paris…" Louise tried, but Paris turned on her.

"No Louise, I'm done making up excuses for her and pretending like everything is okay. Jack is an abusive ass and she's a moron for always going back to him."

Stunned into silence, he simply sat there, as did Finn and Louise.

As if in a move to regain composure, Paris squeezed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index fingers before whirling around and stalking off. She threw out that she would bring the car around before completely disappearing into the distance. Finn gave it a few seconds before running out after her.

The horizon was slowly becoming more distinct, a sheet of pale grey sky separating heaven and earth. He thought he caught the distant hum of traffic, borne down on the winds.

Louise was the first to break the silence.

"Paris thinks you like Rory."

Spitting to the side, he made a noncommittal sound in response. He was no longer certain of that fact.

"I think you'd be good for her," she ventured on, and from the corner of his eye, he caught that she had turned to face him.

"I doubt her boyfriend would see it that way," he mocked, leaning back against the bench. He knew he should have been pissed off, downright angry even. But somehow, he felt detached from the situation.

All he wanted to do now was get home and fall into bed. His screaming muscles seemed to be in agreement.

"Jack's not her boyfriend, not really anyways."

"What does that mean?" despite himself, the question slipped out.

Louise let out a soft sigh before also leaning back against the bench. "It's complicated…" she drifted off as a van pulled up in front of them.

"Get in," Paris called from the driver's seat.

---

His father was already asleep when he got home. So, trying to make as little noise as possible, he simply climbed into bed. He was too confused and in too much pain to do anything else.

---

**I'm already working on the next chapter so for those who've stuck by this story, updates will be much more frequent...and for the people who are reading this for the first time...um...updates will be frequent...the ta's at my university are on strike so i've got a lot of time on my hands...hope you guys enjoy it and take the time to review.**


End file.
